


Nice and Weird

by unwittingcatalyst



Series: Season Three Missing Scenes [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e13 No Country For Old Dads, Episode: s03ep03 Zari, Friendship, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-05 09:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14614806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwittingcatalyst/pseuds/unwittingcatalyst
Summary: She stole a glimpse of his face, and saw—that damned concern, and recognition, and understanding—hell no—“Wait!” he said. “I—I just wanted to say, that if you wanted to talk, I could listen.” The offer was earnest and real. Then he looked down, smiling self-deprecatingly. “I mean, I know it seems like I’m better at just talking, like this, and if you need that I can do that too—obviously—“She stopped on her way to the door, not entirely sure why. Maybe, she thought later, it was the unsure gentleness in his voice, the sense from his tone that he knew far more than a part of her wanted him or anyone to know about her and how she was feeling, and that he knew precisely what another part of her longed for someone to understand, to see. She was fucking tired of being so alone.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Characters on this show experience plenty of grief and trauma that the show itself never gets to fully explore. This is episode-based fic that addresses a bit of that.
> 
> See end notes for acknowledgments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits made to this chapter on June 29, 2018, to make it consistent with "To Feel the Way that Every Child Should," the next story in the series.

Zari walked the hallways of the timeship, her footsteps echoing strangely. It was night, and the hallways were mostly shadowed, the metallic gleam of the sleak walls subdued. She couldn’t sleep. Keeping moving eased her restlessness and helped her think.

Ray was gone—kidnapped by the Darkhs. Zari had rewatched the hostage video they’d forced him to make a few too many times than was good for her. Now she couldn’t get the image out of her head—his black hair falling into his face more than normal, his dark eyes troubled, his face paler even than usual. 

It was a sharp contrast to the way he usually presented himself—the tall man exuded confidence and goofiness in equal measure, his friendly features prone to smiling, his hair so impeccable that Mick had nicknamed him Haircut.

Zari, in quiet moments during Ray’s disappearance, couldn’t help but remember how he’d been to her when she’d first come aboard—awkwardly welcoming, exuberantly cheerful. But he couldn’t hide his concern for her--no matter how hard he tried it was apparent in his dark, too large eyes. It just kept breaking through, or she’d see it when he thought she wasn’t looking. It’d been unnerving—damn annoying—something Zari had been sure it would not be a good idea to trust, though she couldn’t see any evidence not to. 

Of course, he’d been there—a near total stranger from the past—when she’d walked through the sanctuary, now empty, everyone she knew gone, dead. She’d told him all that, then, for some reason, her voice rough. It had made no sense, to trust this person she’d been trying to get away from, but she had—had needed a witness, just then.

He’d said something inane and forgettable at the time—useless hope that her family and friends had made it to safety, and urging to get her to see the need to get out of there before they were attacked by Kuasa. They’d faced that attack—she supposed they’d each saved each other, more or less, before the team had shown up to save them both.

Then, in the days and weeks that had followed, he had kept coming back to her, kept trying to talk, or show her parts of the ship, or challenge her to video games, or ask for her input on the chore wheel he was designing--

He was irritating, and he clearly knew it, and yet he didn’t stop no matter how unimpressed or bored or grumpy she got. She could tell that he didn’t know what else to do, so he was going to try to do what he could anyway.

And it worked, sort of. 

No one and nothing could have saved her from the desolation she’d felt then, the sense of unreality that had nothing to do with being on a timeship with some truly weird people, the sense of being alone.

But still, it’d been nice. Every one of them had done or said something that had endeared them to her, that showed they were with her, that she could build some kind of connection. But Ray had been the most persistent with his kindness. Even if it had sometimes gotten on her every nerve, even if she had sometimes wondered how a person could smile that much or that expansively, or be that enthusiastic about everything from some scientific challenge to his latest ridiculous idea for an activity to bring the team together. He was just odd.

And yet, it had worn her down, she supposed, and she didn’t really mind anymore.

She’d paced through most of the ship several times as she got to these thoughts, past places he’d been the first to show her, past memories of spirited conversations. Now she stood in front of the lab, which fit also where her thoughts had gone. She remembered that one other time she’d taken refuge in the empty lab in the middle of the night, her usual irritable mask fallen, and Ray had found her.

*

“Oh! I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he immediately apologized.

“It’s fine. I was just leaving,” she said, getting up quickly and making for the door before he could see her face.

She stole a glimpse of his face, and saw—that damned concern, and recognition, and understanding—hell no—

“Wait!” he said. “I—I just wanted to say, that if you wanted to talk, I could listen.” The offer was earnest and real. Then he looked down, smiling self-deprecatingly. “I mean, I know it seems like I’m better at just talking, like this, and if you need that I can do that too—obviously—“

She stopped on her way to the door, not entirely sure why. Maybe, she thought later, it was the unsure gentleness in his voice, the sense from his tone that he knew far more than a part of her wanted him or anyone to know about her and how she was feeling, and that he knew precisely what another part of her longed for someone to understand, to see. She was fucking tired of being so alone.

“—but I know it can be difficult,” he was continuing, voice full of heavy knowledge, not quite meeting her eyes just then as though she might see just why he knew that. Then his voice became lighter and faster with building enthusiasm. “—and if now isn’t good I understand, and if now works then we could sit and talk, or watch a movie, or I could show you more places on the ship--”

She walked over to the work table and sat in one of the chairs. He stopped talking, nodded briefly, and joined her in an adjoining chair.

“I don’t want another ship tour,” she said, and she heard the tonelessness of her voice. “I just—I don’t know what to do.”

This time he didn’t say a word, just waited, his face an open book for every emotion, and right now—he was concerned. About her. 

And while a part of her didn’t want anyone to ever see her again, another thought came to her: if she was going to trust someone, this was probably an OK person to choose. 

So she started talking about her family. At first, she spoke lightly, of everyday things, in her everyday tone of voice, but then it became more difficult to keep her voice steady, and she didn’t bother to try. She talked around and around but was afraid to say the hard part, knew that it would tear her to bits.

“I’d like to hear about your brother,” Ray said softly after she’d paused for a while, and she looked up sharply to see those kind brown eyes. There was an undemanding calmness in his voice that was like an anchor—no, a rope thrown to a drowning person.

Zari thought that her metaphors were getting more melodramatic—she really was bad off.

She did speak of Behrad then, and that pretty much did it to what little remained of her composure. But she got the most important parts out—funny stories, what had irritated her most, what she’d loved about him, what he’d done for her, his courage. She especially talked about his forgiving nature, one of the reasons Kuasa’s appeal to vengeance could never have worked, would never have been what he would have wanted. (She would, in less emotional circumstances, tell Ray and the others more later—she found Sara especially open to hearing stories.)

At one point Ray said, “He sounds like a sweet kid.” The sadness in his eyes was painful to look at.

“Yeah, he was,” she agreed, looking away and wiping her eyes, and then thought of another story she had to tell.

Eventually, she came to a stop and glanced up at Ray, who looked—really young. He had to be at least a decade older than her in relative time (though born some 30 years before she had been—time travel weirdness), and yet there was an openness to him that made him seem like that kid she’d met when they'd travelled to 1988, his younger self, with equally dark hair and eyes and strangely pale face, who’d been so loyal and so lost. 

She felt exhausted, empty, and she did not regret a word she’d said. Talking about her family, her brother, made the loss unbearably real, and that was better than the hazy unreality of it from before. It was about time she’d begun properly mourning, even though it hurt like hell.

She had a sudden memory of her Uncle Nouri--when she’d been upset as a kid, and after they’d lost Behrad, her uncle had consoled her. She realized that she wanted one of his hugs right now more than anything.

Her new, attentively listening friend looked nothing like her boisterous uncle, and yet—there was something that felt similar—a generous compassion. Her uncle’s had been like a force of nature. Ray’s, on the other hand, was gently awkward, yet—no less real and powerful. She knew instinctively that Ray wanted nothing more right then than to ease her sorrow.

Hell with it—why not?

Bluntly and unsteadily, Zari said, “I need a hug. I don’t suppose--?”

Ray’s face crumpled a bit at this, and then he nodded and smiled, opening his arms to her. She stood and walked into the hug, burying her eyes in his shoulder, feeling a warm arm around her back and a tentative hand on her head, stroking gently.

She cried her eyes out on his shirt, and used the safety she felt to let herself think the thoughts she wouldn’t allow in the day time—the loneliness, the fears, the grief, the utter desolation at the certainly that she’d never see her friends and family and brother again (the fact that this timeship business fucked _that_ up and gave her hope for a way to save them that was of course Not Allowed and yet possible only made the feelings of despair and guilt worse).

She let herself hold on to the warmth of her new friend, let herself accept being held—which surprised her, that she could do that. In fact, this did remind her of her uncle’s hearty, infinitely patient hugs—her uncle, who was dead, who she’d never see again. She cried harder, not caring how messy or noisy her tears were.

A bit later:

“Why are _you_ crying?” she said, in something approaching her everyday accusatory tone.

He shrugged, wiping his eyes. “Just—because you are,” he said simply. And then, as if a thought occurred him: “And, I mean, in some ways I understand.” He smiled gently. “That’s a story for another time.” She sensed that he would not talk about it then, out of—courtesy, respect for her own sorrow. Just another reason to trust him, she realized.

“You know,” he was continuing, “you can talk to me any time you want.” His face was open, his voice earnest and kind. “It can’t be easy, facing this grief, and joining this crew like you’ve done. If I can help, I’d like to.”

Zari smiled tiredly through her tears, grateful for this steadfast offer of friendship, so in tune with all of Ray’s other words and actions. She spoke, wanting him to know she meant her words. “I’ll take you up on that.” His smile grew brighter.

*  
Now she sat again in the same lab, alone, the lights more dim than they had been then. She had in fact taken him up on his offer of support, more than once, and it had been good to have someone to talk with about her family and her grief, when it hit her hard again, and when she just needed the distraction of a friendly video game competitor. Slowly, this had made it easier to talk with some of the others—Sara, Amaya, Jax, and Mick that one time.

She hadn’t felt as alone on the ship since that conversation with Ray in the lab.

It occurred to her that she’d only a few times heard from him his own stories. She’d meant to sit him down and ask much more—but, mostly, when she wasn’t figuratively or literally crying on his shoulder about her own sorrow, they’d talked of fun things such as Legend of Zelda and musicals, or shared strategies for being sneaky with software. Some of the others had filled her in a bit—Sara early on mentioned his dead fiancé Anna, and she and Mick both told about Leonard Snart, whose absence was still keenly felt by them both and Ray—the original crew, besides Gideon, who’d been aboard when Snart had died.

Zari promised herself that she’d find a way to listen to him more, as he had done for her, if—

She stopped herself. Very deliberately, she finished that thought differently: _when_ he returned.

They had no idea where or when the Darkhs held him captive, or how they were going to get him back. But, they had to. She wasn’t ready right now to contemplate another outcome.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray’s POV on the flashback in Chapter One.

Ray wasn’t expecting to find anyone in the lab in the middle of the ship’s night. It was his usual place to retreat to when he needed to think, or find something to work on when sleep was elusive, and Marty never used it at night.

But when he saw Zari there, it made sense—she could use her hacking skills on the equipment there.

Except, she wasn’t working, she was just—alone. The way her thin shoulders bent inward, even though she was faced away from him, worried him immediately. 

When they’d met her, she’d been all sharpness and defensiveness and secretiveness, a slight figure with very light brown skin and dark brown eyes. After she’d tricked them into helping her find her brother’s totem, she’d fled, and when he’d followed, he had caught up to her just in time to see her standing in her family’s last refuge, destroyed and empty, her loved ones gone— 

The subdued way she’d reacted had been striking, her closed, pinched face looking blank, the grief mostly apparent in her voice. And, he reflected later, it had been odd how much she’d told him then—she barely knew him. But, that was as reasonable a response to grief as any. 

Shortly after, he had nearly drowned in front of her, and would have if she had not intervened and faced Kuasa herself. 

She’d joined them on the Waverider then, and Ray assigned himself the task of making sure she felt welcomed. She’d lost everything and was pulled out of her own time—much safer that way, given that she’d been a fugitive in a police state in the year 2042, and yet, it had to be disorienting and lonely. He didn’t want her to feel lonely.

So, when she tried to leave the lab, hiding her face except for one quick, suspicious glance at him—which gave him a good enough look at her to tell she was upset--he started talking, hoping, but not expecting, that she might stay.

When he stumbled out his offer to listen—or whatever else she needed—he was relieved when she walked over decidedly to sit at the worktable.

He was moved by the shaky, mournful warmth in her voice as she talked of her loved ones. Sometimes she’d speak deliberately of happy, silly times, of larger than life personalities. At the edges of it all was what he already knew, that they’d all been killed, that she was alone now in a way that, in spite of all the troubles she alluded to, she’d never been before.

Ray found himself admiring her for being able to talk about the people she loved this way, and to him. Sure, they were no longer strangers to each other—they’d been through far too much together—and her initial snarky irritation at him had softened to amusement and camaraderie. But right now, she had clearly made a calculated decision not only to trust him with her grief, but also to take the opportunity to truly face that grief. Ray marveled at the bravery of that.

He knew—they all knew—the core of that grief was her brother, so when she paused, and because he really did want to know about him—Ray invited her, as gently as he could manage, to talk about him.

That’s when she truly began to fall apart in front of him. Her voice became more hoarse, and she was regularly wiping tears away, and it was amazing to hear so much of who she was—her stubbornness, her mischievous glee (she and Behrad had clearly shared that quality), her impatience, her admiration, her fondness—all of these were different facets of the same thing, in her.

He was surprised still—in spite of all of this, Zari was a fiercely private person—when she asked for the hug. It was a relief, and it also shook him. After hearing everything she’d shared, he understood even more the despair she was going through, and feeling it directly like this, tears on his shoulder—he held her closely, staying steady for her, and felt honored. He was grateful to be allowed to be useful to her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zari’s POV soon after the flashback but long before Ray’s abduction by the Darkhs.

After she cried on Ray’s shoulder in the lab, Zari felt both more settled and more shaken. It was as though something stuck in her was now loose, and she couldn’t hide as easily from herself anymore.

She wasn’t sure she liked it, but she was sleeping better and her common sense—and her Aunt Harireh’s voice—told her it was a good thing.

She was relieved that nobody else seemed to notice. She didn’t mind feeling things, but she still wanted a say in how she showed it and in who knew. 

She discovered that this meant she felt comfortable being around the others, even when she felt a bit shaky—it was reassuring, and distracting, and sometimes amusing, to see Nate get excited about some find he’d made in a book in Rip’s old library, or to watch as Amaya practiced her fighting moves, or to fiddle with a program in the galley as Mick enjoyed donuts. 

Ray, of course, did know now, and she was especially relieved that he kept his mouth shut in front of the others. She hadn’t thought him capable of that kind of subtlety or tact, but he was: when several of them were together and someone tried to talk with her and she wasn’t wanting that, he’d always have been paying enough attention to change the subject and distract whoever it was. And then later he’d be nearby, giving her a slight, questioning smile. 

Sometimes, she took him up on it and they found a quiet place to sit in silence as they both worked, or, if she was in the mood for it, she talked, and sometimes that led to more crying.

He wasn’t awkward anymore, as he comforted her, just gentle and kind.

It shouldn’t have been so easy, but it was, which was good because nothing else about feeling her loss was easy at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to folks who have read over this story and given feedback, including [meganbagels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meganbagels), [avelera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avelera), Alistair--[GamerAlpha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GamerAlpha), and Sol LeTeire who read it first and guided me to provide more sense details and sense of place.


End file.
